


Noises and Interpretations

by witchway



Series: I'll Kiss Your Tears Away [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: College Student Peter Parker, Happy Ending, M/M, Possessive Tony Stark, Sex, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-02 05:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway
Summary: Tony *never* heard Peter make noises quite like that before.Then again, this WAS the first time they had done it on a bed...





	1. Insights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [von_gelmini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/gifts).

> Tony survived the Battle For Earth - you don't need to know why.
> 
> Peter, while technically 18, is legally 22 if you think about it.
> 
> So Peter finds himself, like many boys his age, rushing to get high school behind them and get on with their original college plans now that they've all come back from their unexpected 5 year hiatus. The group of Smart Boys Peter goes to school with get it into their heads to get caught up on some *other* types of education too, a fact that Peter enjoys hinting at with Tony, repeatedly. 
> 
> And it works, too, because Tony finally gets it through his head that a physical relationship with Peter is NOT out of the question, and now you know all that you need to know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But to no avail – Tony was pulling up and stroking Peter’s face again, wiping away tears. At least he was now lying in Tony’s arms, on Tony’s bed, so Peter tried to LiveInTheMoment and simply revel in it:
> 
> _The_ Tony Stark, America’s most Macho Man Superhero, was here, in his arms, stroking the tears away from his cheeks. 

Their relationship was not going to be all sunshine-and-roses, certainly. Relationships weren’t, usually, among people who tended to solve their problems with their fists. There was more than one time Peter wanted to haul up and punch his new lover in the face, but never more than just now. Right in the middle of coming his brains out and Tony stopped, pulling out completely with a gasp of surprise. “Are you ok, baby?” he panted, leaning over, stroking Peter’s face. “What’s wrong?” 

And there Peter was, coming helplessly onto Tony’s expensive sheets, tears streaming down his face, mouth hanging open, gasping for breath. His brain too fried for punching, all he could do was whimper:

“_Please_ don’t stop.”

And Tony, to his credit, got back to work.

In the afterglow (while still being pounded) Peter managed to note the beauty of it all – was Tony Stark, THE Iron Man, just now _stroking his face?_

But then something else was happening – something that Peter would have identified as another orgasm, except that he was still recovering from the first. His cock twitched helplessly against the wet spot on the bed as Tony pounded away. But he _must_ be coming, that was the only explanation for the humiliating high-pitched cry that he heard echoing in the room – slightly different from the lower moaning and sobbing that apparently was the (surprise!) new soundtrack to Tony’s vigorous fucking - and yes, Tony was pausing (again!) to lean over to check on him before resuming (_damn_ he was being really loud.) And now Tony was coming - he could tell by the angry, choked sound the man made and the way his face was ducked out of sight and his fingers were digging into Peter’s ass – and then it was over.

Tony collapsed onto the bed, falling to the left, and so Peter turned his face to the right. _Yes,_ he wanted to be on the bed, _yes_ it was his idea, but now he did NOT want to be caught with these helpless tears streaming down his face. 

But Tony’s recovery was legendarily fast, infuriatingly so, and if Peter wanted any snuggling before he was ordered to clean up in the bathroom it had to be _now,_ so he forced himself to turn his body around. Recovering in Tony Starks arms had been a long-time dream of his, and tears or no tears he was going to try to make that dream real, if only for a few seconds. Still, he didn’t want to talk about the crying, and he tried his best to hide in Tony’s arms, ducking his face into the man’s chest. But to no avail – Tony was pulling up and stroking Peter’s face again, wiping away tears. At least he was now lying in Tony’s arms, on Tony’s bed, so Peter tried to LiveInTheMoment and simply revel in it:

_The_ Tony Stark, America’s most Macho Man Superhero, was here, in his arms, stroking the tears away from his cheeks. 

“That was incredible,” was all Peter could manage, in hopes to avoid any need for an explanation. He was no longer sobbing, but the tears kept coming.

“You sounded like I was killing you,” Tony said, but managed to laugh as well, and soon they were both laughing, their foreheads together, and Peter sighed in relief, his body relaxing completely. They had _never_ talked directly afterward, he just now realized (mostly they just apologized. Which is to say, mostly Tony apologized. Tony would apologize and swear it wouldn't happen again, and Peter would nod and hope he didn't mean it.) Tony **loved** to talk about sex, specifically _their_ sex, but only days later as part of the foreplay. It was hot, no denying - but now they seemed to be talking _in_ the afterglow, and it was so much more than hot. It was _lovely_.

“Yeah I'm sorry I.....I was coming and I didn't want you to stop – oh god Tony that was amazing. I think I came twice.”

“I think you did too,” Tony said, cupping the back of Peter’s head and stroking his hair. “I’ve never heard you make noises like that…” he whispered, and it was true. He had listened to Peter struggling under the body of an airplane, he had listened to the boy keep up a steady explanation as he tied up the legs of a gigantic Scott Lang, but he had never groan or cry out like that…

“....this is our first time on a bed?” Peter reminded him, and Tony collapsed onto his back with laughter.

“So you like this horizontal better than vertical is what I’m hearing you say…” Tony said finally, panting. He turned to Peter, now snuggled in his arm, and brought their foreheads back together, a position that Peter decided he loved (right after the position they had been in minutes before.) Being this close, close enough to whisper, but not exactly making eye contact, was the perfect position for talking about embarrassing subjects.

“Yeah, that angle was just, amazing...” Peter whispered, hoping to explain. He certainly didn’t want to speak ill of the (many) other times he and Tony had been together, but he couldn’t deny he had never raised such a racket before. But before tonight there had always been a No-We’re-Not-Doing-This-Ok-I-Guess-We’re-Doing-It-Now-Ok-That-Won’t-Happen-Again-Ooops-It-Just-Did aspect that required walls and desktops and quite a bit of Peter’s legs wrapped around Tony while Tony lifted him off the ground, only to return awkwardly to a standing position after a great deal of grunting and panting [and then being sent off, alone, to the bathroom to clean up, a most disagreeable practice.] Agreeing to be together (even though it was the result of an entire argument that was held exclusively through texting, but what were Iron Man and Spiderman if not Steeped In Modern Technology?) had led to an actual encounter in the bedroom, their first, and the results had been remarkable.

“When you were ….. behind me and on top of me….I’m sorry it got so loud. But god Tony, I’ve never felt like …. no one’s ever done that to me before.”

“Hmmmm….I enjoyed it too. But I must admit, I do miss having your legs wrapped around me.”

“We can do it that way next time,” Peter said, grinning. “We can alternate. Split the difference.” 

He closed his eyes and pressed close, grinning from ear to ear. This had gone so much better than he could have ever hoped. He had gotten Tony _in bed_, had just received the fucking of his life, and now, more surprising than anything else, he was laying sleepily in his lover’s arms and it was everything.

Tony, on the other hand, was still analyzing. “Ummmm….” he hummed to himself, thinking, still stroking the back of Peter’s head, keeping him close. “So, all of your Genius Returner Study-buddies, are you saying no one’s….taken the time to give you a good ramming? Out of ALL of them no one got to top the mighty Peter Parker?”

“I’m not saying that.” Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head enough to let Tony see him roll them, then snuggled back down into Tony’s embrace. He was used to this man pushing him to talk about sensitive subjects, and if he was going to be forced to have this conversation _again_, he was at least getting to enjoy it from the beautiful position of In Tony's Arms.

“No, no, I want details,” Tony was saying for the umpteenth billion time, and Peter knew he only had himself to blame. True, Tony liked keeping him off balance, but who had pushed their late-night tech-talks into this intimate territory? It WAS Peter who had started bragging about his extracurricular activities with his male co-eds (of course that was just his way of beginning his seduction of one Tony Stark.) So it was his own fault that his sex life, past, current, real, fanciful, was Tony’s #1 favorite subject.

“I told you, Peter said, taking a deep breath. "Mostly the Return.....I mean the guys....most of them wanted _me_ to do the honors….”


	2. Dare and Double-Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tony I need this. 
> 
> "For godssake I’m a grown man dressing up as a freaking spider and returning stolen bicycles. I get to watch you and New-Bruce and Steve talking without masks on and the world using your real names and me – me - I stuck standing on the side with the guy who dresses up like a Panther. 
> 
> "I’m a secret, and it’s driving me nuts."

“And did you like that?”

“Oh yeah it felt good, it felt great. I was pretty sure … yeah…this is what I’m supposed to be doing. And I mean, I mean everyone who I was with was asking me, you know, to do it to _them._ And then I guess I got a reputation. So it started to just make sense. But then…”

“But then when someone else asked to do the honors? Did anyone get to pound you from behind? I thought you told me that crowd was a bunch of _geniuses._ How are you telling me that of all those geniuses, every one of them turned down the opportunity to _pound_ that sweet ass?”

“They’re not…” he said, punching Tony in the arm ineffectually. “They aren’t the ‘pound-that-sweet-ass’ _types_ Tony. They’re more like, _**we’re**_ all like….we’re all _polite_ geniuses. So when people asked … I mean….I mean the first guy who asked me if HE could do the honors….

“No…see….I….tended to take the lead in these things, I _always_ took the lead in these things.” Peter said. He was starting to blush furiously against Tony’s shirt, but still pushing forward, needing to be understood. “So I’m like, 'yeah, of course, you should just lie on your back.' And he did and that way I could … get the honors done to me .... just take it from above. That’s how I had been giving it to everyone else…. that’s the most logical position.

"The person on top controls everything, so if you’re taking a dick for the first time….. or the second or …. whatever – that just works best.”

“So that’s the way you “took it” every time.”

Was it possible to blush while you were still blushing? Peter decided to ignore it. Tony asked technical questions about everything, and if technical questions about Peter's sex life was his current fascination, so be it.

“Yeah…. ok. I see your point. Yes, I only did it that way with those guys. I guess I just like to be in control. It worked out well for everybody. I mean you just ....ride them and they close their eyes and think about someone else and enjoy it. It always felt good when someone else did it to me. And getting it done to me felt even better than doing it to some other guy. But nothing…”

He sat up a little to touch Tony’s face.

“**No one** ever made me feel like that. I don’t ……I have no idea where all that noise came from…but god Tony that was amazing.”

“Well, as honored as I am to be the first one to hear Peter Parker make those noises, it appears that’s because I’m the only one to be brave enough to give you a good pounding from behind…” he said dismissively, and started to rise from the bed, but was surprised to find himself thrown back down and pinned to the bed by the same Peter Parker, first by his shirt, then by his shoulder.

“SHUT UP…..will you just stop it?” Peter growled (reveling, for just a moment, in the fact that he was fulfilling a very old fantasy of using his superior strength to pin Tony Stark to the bed and hold him down while he confessed his true feelings. Only problem was, now that they were there, there was nothing but a very startled look from Tony, and Peter, stumbling over his words as usual.)

“This is _real._ Tony can you please just … I need … you’ve got to … “

Peter gave up and brought their foreheads together again. This seemed to be the best position for talking, and so he stayed there (while still forcibly holding Tony in place.)

“Tony I _need_ this. For godssake I’m a grown man dressing up as a freaking spider and returning stolen bicycles. I get to watch you and New-Bruce and Steve talking without masks on and the world using your real names and me – me - I stuck standing on the side with the guy who dresses up like a Panther. I’m a _secret,_ and it’s driving me nuts. I always thought it would get better after I left high-school but I don’t see how college is going to be any easier. Pretending I don’t know why the Returners really Returned, pretending I don't know how Thanos really died, pretending that I don’t know YOU invented time travel just to … just to get me back…”

He was crying again dammit. Tony tried to reach around his arm to stroke his face again and Peter had to separate their foreheads to shake him off.

“Nothing is _real._ I dress up in a souped-up leotard to pester car-thieves in Queens, but that’s not really me. Then I dress up like Peter Parker and I hawk set-up pics to a newspaper where they think Spiderman is some kind of vigilante badguy, and I just stand there and look stupid about it and that’s not really me, either. This double-life it..... it’s just exhausting. I need something **real,** Tony. I need this. I need you.

“And I meant everything I said before…texted before. I don’t care if this implodes in 20 days or 20 weeks or 20 years. Neither one of us may be alive by then. I need to live in the moment. _We_ need to live in the moment. So spare me this ‘It’s just because no one ever did this to you before’ bullshit you _**egotistical bastard**_…”

He was losing his steam, not to mention his grip on Tony’s shoulder AND his ability to form sentences. What he was feeling he couldn’t even explain to himself – how was he going to explain it to anyone else? Let alone _this_ guy?

He straddled the man and put his hands on both sides of his chest. He took two fistfuls of Tony’s shirt and tried gesturing with them, only to find he had completely run out of words. He tried to bring their foreheads together again but wound up laying his head on the bed next to Tony’s.

THIS secret required closer contact.

“You made me scream while you were fucking me because that was EPIC,” he whispered. “Because you are _Tony Stark._ Because we are supposed to be together. Iron Man and Spiderman. We’re legendary. Don’t try to pretend that it was anything else.”

Tony was smiling, and that should have been a good sign, but then he was laughing and suddenly Peter was rethinking that I’ve-only-want-to-haul-up-and-punch-my-lover-on-occasions philosophy. Point of fact, he wanted to punch someone right now. He sat up and shook the man, demanding an explanation.

“Its….yes….no I’m sorry. It isn't funny..... is it? No, it’s serious. But kid listen to yourself,” Tony said, taking Peter’s wrists in both hands and trying to get himself under control. “In 20 years?

"In 20 years I’m going to be 75, and you won’t even been pushing 40. And _**where do you think it’s going to go from there,**_ honestly?

“What you’re suggesting is ridiculous and you’re the only one who can’t see it. When the others find out they are going to laugh at us, and for a good reason. You’re getting the short end of the stick….”  
With that he knocked both Peter’s arms away and sat up suddenly, grabbing Peter’s face in both hands and bringing him close.

“And you’re the only one who hasn’t figure that out,” he growled against Peter’s mouth. “And if I were a good guy, Peter, I’d tell you ‘no.’ _That’s the part you just don’t get. _

“I. Am not. The good guy. I’m a **selfish** ‘egotistical bastard,’” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“That’s why I’m not telling you ‘no’.”

He punctuated that last sentence with a brutal kiss and Peter did not resist. Nor did Peter resist when Tony flipped them both over and pushed Peter’s knee down to the bed (Peter’s dancer-like flexibility made this position completely painless) and began bucking his hips forward, rubbing his awakening cock between Peter’s legs in a parody of what they had been doing moments before.

And very soon it was no longer a parody. “Yes, Tony, do it….” Peter was murmuring when his lover finally released him from the kiss and in a few moments Tony was inside him again.

“Does it hurt baby?” Tony was asking and Peter enjoyed a little inappropriate laugh of his own. “I told you old man, you can’t hurt me. Like the skin on my arm or the skin on my face, you can’t hurt it. You can do this to me all…. night…. long."

He enjoyed the wicked grin on his own face and enjoyed it even more when Tony tried to kiss it away. He wrapped his legs around the older man (and enjoyed the appreciative noises that ensued.) He tilted his hips up until his heels were in the middle of Tony’s shoulder-blades and found the noises that this resulted in entirely enjoyable.

He was about to make a comment about Tony was now being the loud one when the man pulled up to look him in the face ask breathlessly, “What were their names?”

“???” was all Peter could manage until Tony, never slowing his pace, leaned down and growled “Their names. The names of the boys who fucked you before I did. The boys that couldn’t make you make that noise. I want to know their names.”

“Jesus Tony,” Peter tried to argue, but now the man was staring him down, keeping his gaze steady as he rocked into his body.

“Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind, little boy,” Tony growled while he pounded. “You wanted me, now you have me. And I want names. You tell me who got **here** first.”

Peter turned his head away in anger and frustration. ‘Little boy’ stung, Tony hadn’t used that hateful phrase since before they had started fucking. Then he made a quick calculation and decided to comply.

“I think Luke was first,” he said, flinging one hand out to the bed and fisting the sheets. He squeezed down with his hand as hard as he could and focused all his senses on the picture that made – it was very much like the first days before he had discovered he could shut out the constant input his brain was giving him by putting on the dark glasses. Honing in on the fisted sheets, Peter managed to forget about Tony’s cock pounding into him, forget about the incredible noises the man made when he dug his heel in-between the shoulder blades…

“Yeah, Luke was first. Everybody else kept asking me to do it to them. Luke-With-A-Beard was the first to do it to me, I never did it with Other Luke. Next came Ashley and then Percival, no wait, Ashley and I did it several times...... like we kept doing each other several times, THEN came Percival. And I did it for one of the Art Majors but I don’t remember which one.”

He let go of the sheet and turned his head back to the man on top of him with a triumphant grin. He had taken Tony’s challenge and matched it and, now that he had finished with the *actual* list of lovers, began to improvise.

“And I did it with both Paul’s,” he whispered, canting his hips even further upward by walking his heels even higher up Tony’s body. Right now he was more thankful for his spider-bite powers than ever before.

“Gay Paul _and_ Poleaxe Paul,” he lied freely, pressing one heel above the other until he finally had one pressing into Tony’s neck. “Together, they took turns with me. But I don’t count them because they only came for each other... oh god Tony….”

The sounds Tony was making now were most satisfying and Peter held on to Tony’s head, first with both feet and then with his hands. “Yes…. it’s perfect….. it’s perfect…”

Wrapping both arms and both legs around his lover Peter listened closely to the loud noises his lover was making and wondered if the pride he felt at causing those noises was anything like it had been for Tony just moments before. Although this position had been comparable to some encounters on counter-tops, Tony had never made noises quite like this and Peter treasured every one of them.

It seemed to go on forever, giving Peter time to, reluctantly, admit that it had been the angle after all – this position was inspiring zero noises out of him personally.

Then Tony was making that angry, pinched-off sound, as if something had just gone wrong, and as Peter felt those fingers dig into his shoulders and he knew Tony was coming. He closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to see this part…

…then Peter remembered that he WAS the Strongest Avenger and he caught Tony’s face in both hands.

“No hiding old man. You get to reap the whirlwind too – and now I get to watch.”

From there he murmured as gently and tenderly as he could, alarmed, slightly, at the way Tony’s eyes bugged and his face seemed to *disconnect* when he came. But finally he did take pity on the man, letting him bury his face into the bed, wrapping him up in his arms and in his words. “That was perfect. Oh god that was perfect. Oh Tony I never felt anything like it.” He kept both arms and legs securely wrapped around Tony’s shoulders and held him as he recovered.

“Oh god, I can still feel you inside me,” Peter breathed as he felt Tony’s body relax.

“That’s because apparently I’m…..wearing you…..” Tony said, glancing up at Peter’s foot next to his head and Peter laughed as he put them both down.

“That was amazing. Now I know what to do when I want to hear you make those noises,” Peter joked, until Tony announced he was going to have Friday record Peter tomorrow and Peter found himself protesting and begging again.

“Nope, nope, I’m going to have a personal file on my phone, for when I’m off on conferences, I’m going to have Friday record it as the “Greedy Bottom Protocol.” It will be nice to listen to when I’m away….”

He put his mouth to Peter’s ear, even as Peter argued, and began to whisper. “First you moan and plead and whimper like someone’s killing you. Then you start singing like a soprano because I’m making you come….then silence. For about 30 seconds. Then the moaning and “Oh Gods” begin again….”

“PLEASE stop,” Peter begged, putting his hands over Tony’s mouth, laughing and trying to blush and hide his head all at the same time.

“I’m going to do it, I’m going to call it the ‘Twink Protocol.’” “I TOLD you I am NOT a twink!” Peter argued even as he resigned himself to the fact that the soundfile WAS going to exist, and his lover was undoubtedly going to make him listen to it someday.

They were both quiet for a moment, catching their breath, when Tony said “I want to watch.

“I want to watch them fuck you.”

“Oh JESUS CHRIST Tony,” did no good, nor did rolling his eyes nor even turning his head and facing the other way.

“I don’t think any of my study partners are going to be into _that,_ Tony.”

“I mean it, I want proof. You claim I’m the only one who can make you make those noises and I want proof. I’ll have Friday create a secure line and you can send it to me on your phone and you’ll show me what it looks like when they fuck you…”

“I’ll have to get their permission to be filmed…”

“No, because they’ll be the ones fucking you, so it doesn’t count….”

“That is NOT how it WORKS Tony!”

A minor argument ensued (ending with Tony declaring “Oh you and your damn millennial ethics. Fine then.”) with Peter turning his body around completely, hiding his face, calculating. He was agreeing to Tony’s demands while simultaneously wondering about the _nature_ of these demands. Was this really information that his lover needed? Or was this just Tony punishing him for insisting he would settle for nothing less than a real relationship? Either way, his calculating brain pointed out, the demands _were_ turning him on more than a little bit, as well as the idea of meeting his lover head on.

“Fine, I’ll bring you proof and then you’ll see,” Peter said, turning around suddenly and wrapping up Tony in his arms again sliding his hands under Peter’s shirt up his back, but Tony rolled onto his back, pulling Peter onto his body like a blanket, and Peter withdrew his hands.

“You’ve left TWO wet spots on my bed,” Tony scolded gently. “You’re going to have to take a shower at some point.”

“Are you going to make me do that by myself?” Peter pouted.

“Do you mind?”

“Are you kidding? _**I hate it**_.”

“Then I won’t make you do it.”

Peter looked into Tony’s face, startled by the concession, then kissed him.

They kissed for a while like that, Peter working his hand under Tony’s shirt again, stroking his chest, and then made a very bold request.

“Take this off,” he asked gently, but Tony only shook his head.

“Please? You want what nobody else can have from me. That’s the same thing I want from you,” Peter insisted, although he almost relented when he saw the sadness break across Tony’s face.

“It ain't pretty, kid.”

“Friday, turn off the lights,” Peter requested, but Tony had to sit up a little and ordered “Friday, engage.”

After Friday announced that she was back online, the lights were lowered.

“Why did you turn Friday off?” Peter asked in confusion, and Tony laughed even as he shrugged out of his shirt.

“Oh kid, don’t you even remember?” he whispered as he pulled Peter close against his bare chest. “You were moaning so loud, Friday tried to call the ambulance on you twice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it all the way down here, and you CAN'T hit the kudos button again - so why not leave a comment?


	3. On Tears, Misinterpretations, and Damned Millennial Ethics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Muses told me this was a 2 chapter story.
> 
> My Muses lied.
> 
> My Muses are unethical, controlling bastards.

Luke-with-a-beard consented to be recorded on Peter’s phone.

He was naturally reluctant at first, but it helped that Peter had planned ahead, and proved that the placement of the phone would leave out Luke’s head (it also helped that Peter had just gone down on the dude before even bringing it up. Tony raised an eyebrow that THIS encounter had not been recorded but Peter protested by repeating the parameters of the experiment, namely, proving what noises would or would not be produced and under what conditions.)

Percy was obviously the most promising candidate for the experiment, but Tony insisted the recordings happen in chronological order. This was just another absurdity in Tony’d demands that Peter took in stride.

He was onto Tony’s game.

  
More importantly, he was enjoying the fact that he was onto Tony’s game, and matching him point for point.

Tony claimed to have watched it live but then also claimed he was waiting for Peter to arrive that night. Which is how Peter found himself blushing furiously at the sight of his phone-video with Luke playing on a 65 inch airscreen in the middle of Tony’s bedroom (but he quickly recovered. This was Tony’s game, and he was getting good at it.)

The acoustics in the deserted stairwell where they did it were distinctive, and Peter could clearly be heard panting and giving polite encouragements, but the specific sounds Tony was looking for were clearly not present.

“Of course, he doesn’t have you completely bent over,” Tony began but Peter cut him off right away.

“Watch.”

Looking directly at the screen (where a headless Luke was fucking a Stairwell-Peter who was bracing himself against the wall and working himself down until he created a perfect 90 degree angle) was almost impossible, but soon Peter realized he could see THROUGH the airscreen and so simply kept his eyes focused on corner of a doorframe on the other side of the room (also at a perfect 90 degree angle.) He was also standing in his best This-Is-How-Rhodey-Stands-When-He-Isn’t-Taking-Any-Of-Tony’s-Shit pose, which helped immensely.

“Hrm…..well……no, because that’s not the angle that…”

“Watch.”

Peter wasn’t just tolerating this now, he was actually beginning to enjoy it. This Rhodey pose was incredibly helpful. He could now look directly at his half-naked body on the airscreen being taken from behind by a polite-but-enthusiastic Luke. He had to stop himself from _smirking_ as that Peter kept his forearms against the stairwell wall while dexterously walking his arms down, an inch at a time, working his head lower and lower until they definitely were at the exact same angle Tony was describing, all while keeping one arm lower than the other, to keep his face visible to the camera.

And now Peter wasn’t glancing occasionally at the rocking couple in the air but looking at them directly, grinning internally with pride.

When he had been with Luke in the stairwell Peter hadn’t even been thinking about the angle. He had arranged the phone to keep their heads out of the shot – but once Luke had started fucking him Peter had started to work his way down to make sure _Tony could see his face._

The video played in the silent room. The only sounds were the undignified slapping of Luke’s body against his own, echoing in the stairwell, along with Peter’s encouragement. “Yes” and “That’s good Luke” and “Yeah that’s right.” Both boy’s had their eyes closed, until Stairwell-Peter snuck a look back at Luke, and then, when he knew he wasn’t being watched, turned to look directly into the camera with his best bedroom eyes.

The real Peter had stopped blushing completely and was now grinning from ear to ear.

At least he was until Tony tackled him and threw him onto the bed.

What came next was very pleasant indeed.

In Stark Tower clothing had certainly been removed hurriedly before, but never had it been removed so _forcefully_ before, a new development that Peter found he quite enjoyed. So much so that he stopped helping altogether. He allowed Tony to strip him down, then pick him up and flip him onto his stomach. Before he had even caught his breath Tony had two fingers slicked up (certain things were always readily available at Tony’s bedside) and had shoved them inside. While Stairwell-Peter was gently saying “That’s it, that’s it buddy, right there,” the real Peter’s eyes were going wide as he Tony thick cock pressing against him, seeking entrance.

Then Tony pulled back and put both hands on Peter’s waist.

He paused for just a moment, turning his attention suddenly to the two boys fucking in mid-air. Luke was coming, and Stairwell-Peter had raised his voice just enough to be heard over the moans, saying “That’s right buddy, you can do it, come for me baby.”

This didn’t seem to please Tony. “Hands and knees” he snarled as he pulled Peter into position (even as the Stairwell-Peter was saying “That’s perfect, that’s perfect buddy”) and Peter tried his best to comply, but as soon as he managed to get up onto all fours Tony put his hand on Peter’s neck and forced him face first into the blankets in a way that made Peter’s heart start pounding.

Then the real pounding began and Peter forgot about every else.

It seemed to go on forever. Tony fucked like a man on a mission, and it occurred to Peter, as much as he could think at all, that if this were the results of making headless videos then he certainly had found a new, rewarding, hobby.

Luke and Stairwell-Peter were done, and now they were hugging each other and laughing, shuffling over to the phone, their pants around their ankles, to turn off the camera. But nothing they said could have been heard over the low moaning and begging and crying out. Peter felt his orgasm pounding down on him like a freight train, and just before he lost all control he managed to think “At least I’m not in tears.”

Still, Tony kept going, long past the next video (the inside of Peter’s book bag) and the next (a bit of a bagpipe player in a field on campus) Peter knew exactly what he was trying to do – Tony had made him come twice the night before and he was determined to do so again.

But that was probably impossible, Peter thought (silently, out loud he was moaning and keening and “Oh God”ing endlessly. He had absolutely no control over it.) The other night had been special for a thousand different reasons including, but not limited to, the part where they were sharing a bed for the first time.

Then Tony rose from the position on his knees and started fucking downward from a half-crouched position and the screaming, and the tears, began.

Tony kept pounding (of course) after he came and as soon as he was able Peter turned his face directly into the bed, hoping the constant movement against the bedcover would wipe the tears from his face. He opened his eyes wide and focused, fighting with everything he had to control his breathing. If his breath started hitching the sobbing would begin and it would form like an avalanche from there and dammit he wasn’t doing that again.

Tony was coming now, which Peter had to ignore (even though he was shouting Peter’s name in a broken voice and saying a number of impossible things) as he focused on his breathing. And now Tony was collapsing against him, but still Peter ignored him, eyes wide open, face down in the bed. Breathing in, breathing out. Fuck if he could stay calm after Toomes dropped an entire building on him, he could stay calm now.

But Tony was talking to him dammit, so the Ignore-Everything-Else strategy wouldn’t work. Peter turned his head (slightly) and mumbled something vague to Tony’s urgent questions.

“Are you sure baby?” Tony was asking, trying to stroke his face.

Peter managed to nod.

“Oh, good boy. Daddy’s good boy. That was perfect. Are you sure you’re ok Petie?”

Slightly annoyed (he had successfully removed all the tears from his face without hands. Couldn’t he get some credit?) Peter nodded.

“Tell Daddy you’re ok.”

“I’m good. That was beautiful.”

Satisfied, Tony looked up and addressed the ceiling.

"Friday, end recording."

And Peter burst into hysterical tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments encouraged me to add this chapter. 
> 
> Who knows what MORE comments will do??


	4. Safety Words

“Nobabybabyno,” Tony gasped, scooping up Peter in his arms and holding him close. He rocked him back and for, shushing him, and started to speak.

But then he seemed to think better of it and said nothing at all, simply holding Peter and stroking his hair. After a few moments, he even started singing softly (something by Black Sabbath, Peter thought, although gently, like a lullaby.)

It was almost too sweet to interrupt, as embarrassing as it all was, and Peter relaxed in his embrace and let him continue.

“I’ll delete it if you need me too,” Tony finally said softly, finally loosening his arms enough to look Peter in the face, and Peter looked up in confusion. Only as the man kept talking did he remember what Tony had said right before the tears began.

“But baby, I need it,” he was saying, and sincerity in his eyes kept Peter from interrupting. “I’ll trade _any_ sexual favor you want for it, and I mean anything. Absolutely anything. Any position, any country, just name it. I’ll even put on a leather bustier and fishnet stockings and dance to “Singing in the Rain” in front of you and all of your friends, but, Peter, I’ve got to keep it.

“Because, baby, you’re not going to keep making those noises. Eventually you’re going to adjust to that feeling and that position…that’s not bad that’s just normal…. and it won’t be new and emotional anymore…what you gave me that night….”

Tony was struggling a little with his words, and Peter, oddly, found comfort in that.

“Tonight was the closest you’re ever going to get to sounding the way you sounded that night. _And that’s **mine**_, and according to you, it’s only mine, and I need it.

“But I can’t begrudge you your Damn Millennial Ethics.”

There was pain in his face, now, and Peter buried his own face into Tony’s shirt, hiding from it, knowing it was there.

“But. One word.” He whispered. “One word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

Peter pushed himself away from Tony’s embrace to look up into his face. Listening to the older man struggle with his words, somehow, made it easier to speak his own. So he took a deep, shaking breath and (after wiping away all the damn tears, of course) said:

“Don’t delete it.”

He spoke quietly. He didn’t want his voice to quaver, and he knew it would if he said it any louder now. “I don’t want you to delete it. It is yours. It’s yours, and it’s only yours, and I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, relieved, and kissed him on the head.

“Just DON’T call it the “Twink Protocol…..”

“Toolatealreadyfiledit” he said between kisses.

Peter would have protested but now Tony was stretching him out upon the bed gently and positioning himself on top. Peter looked down – the man was gloriously naked from the waist down and still hard – but Tony was looking intensely in his face and seemed to be struggling to say something, so Peter waited.

Finally, he reached out to wipe away a stray tear from Peter’s face and whispered:

“Do we need a safety word?”

And Peter, who had been thinking about it for quite a while, answered immediately.

“Yeah. The safety word is “I hate it.””

He watched Tony think about it for a moment, then he nodded.

“So …..was this about the recording?” he said gently, touching one cheek, again, with a fingertip.

Peter groaned and covered his eyes. “I don’t know – I don’t know – I was doing so well! But then I came so hard and after that…”

“You said you _wanted me_ to keep going after you came.”

“Oh god I did, and it felt amazing. And when you stopped at the beginning and….let me catch my breath….I thought that was really good. I think it made me louder,” he grinned, realizing that all he ever had to do to get Tony to do anything would be to say “I think it will make me louder.”

“But after that?” Tony pressed.

Peter turned his head to hide in Tony’s shirt again. He couldn’t say what was more embarrassing, being caught crying or being completely unable to explain it. The overwhelming feeling like a little kid made is cheeks burn.

“Ok,” Tony said indulgently, “Different question.”

He stroked Peter’s chest down the center, then ran his hand over his ribs, then back to the center of his chest. He waited until Peter looked back up. Then, giving Peter his best bedroom eyes, he started speaking softly.

“You were a good boy Peter, you brought Daddy the recording on your phone, just like you were told to. You were a _very_ good boy, and you’ll get a treat.”

As he spoke he lightly caressed Peter’s nipple, then pressed his whole hand down upon it as it pebbled to his touch. Peter’s eyes fluttered as he floated on sensation (not just of the touch but at the words “good boy,” which were making him tingle, making him hard all over again.)

“But now I need you to be straight with me,” he said, his voice changing a little, moving his hand to rest at Peter’s waist.

“Safety word question.

“Recording your Fuckbuddies, does that fall into Hate Territory?” he asked, and when Peter opened his eyes he very suddenly found that frustrated feeling, that like-a-little-kid feeling, was gone.

He found himself rising from the bed, pushing Tony out of the way, calm and confident.

Because he knew the answer the question.

He moved Tony into a sitting position and, sitting beside him, looked Tony steadfastly in the eye. “No. I get it,” he said, putting one solid hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You’re Tony Stark. You’re possessive. You’re territorial.

_“I like it.”_

Tony tried to hide his expression – he simply nodded and then lay down on the bed casually, his arms under his head.

Peter copied him, positioning his arms a little under Tony’s, lying close but not touching, and congratulated himself. Microexpressions of surprise and arousal went by fast, but Peter was getting good at catching them.

“So Ashley will be next,” he said with feigned casualness, suppressing his shit-eating grin. “Because he’s next in chronological order,” although I don’t know if he’ll agree to it. But Percy will, definitely…”

“It’s not necessary,” Tony started, but Peter interrupted boldly. “Oh _no,_ you asked, and now you get. Besides, I like the way you fuck me after you watch me with other guys.”

He looked for a reaction, but Tony only shrugged.

“But there’s no point now,” Tony said with exaggerated casualness. “We already know what makes you make *that* noise. You said it yourself. With the Genius Returner Study-buddies you were always in control. They told you what they wanted, but you always told them how it was going to work. So there you were, always on top, if you were taking a dick for the first time... or the fifth time. You said it, “I like to be in control.” Even there…” he said, pointing at the airscreen, still activated, currently showing the folder of videos sent directly to Tony’s secure line. “Just listen to yourself. I mean you’re very polite and sensitive and sweet and all that Millennial shit, but you’re still telling him what to do. He didn’t even bend you over, you bent yourself.

“So you were _partially_ right, it wasn’t because I was the first one to give you a good pounding from behind…”

“First off” Peter interrupted. “’That Millennial shit’ is called good manners. Second….” He had to stop and laugh about it. He laughed at it until Tony got annoyed.

“What?!”

“Oh poor Tony. You just had to have documentation of all the boys that fucked me before you, just so you could compare, but now what are you going to do?”

He reached up and stroked Tony’s face.

“There isn’t anyone on the planet that can control me. There isn’t anyone, not even an Avenger, that’s strong enough to make me do something I don’t want to do.”

He was proud of himself, proud of his boldness, but of course Tony had to shrug it all off and continue his study of the ceiling.

“Well….” he said finally.

“What?”

“We could continue the experiment – with the right Avenger. Maybe Bruce when he…”

“**OH PLEASE.** I don’t think so.”

“I don’t know, he can get pretty big. And his hands are like the size of….”

“Whatever, I’d just punch him and then he’d get bigger and then he’d punch me and then I’d punch him and he would get bigger and then we’d wind up taking down an entire building and we’d both forget all about the sex, so what would be the point?”

“Alright. Thor…”

“**No.** I’d get all tangled up in his draperies. Dude I don’t even know what to say during sex, how am I going to talk all Shakespearean??”

“You’re damn lucky Cap is 90 years old and tragically heterosexual.”

“Still wouldn’t work – he’s not nearly as hung as you.”

Peter looked up slyly.

“_Never_ get naked with Bucky Barnes. He tells tales.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed THIS chapter, PLEASE let me know.
> 
> A simple <3 will suffice.


	5. Secrets. Promises. Sexual Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s brow knitted in confusion. “Break a ….. what?”
> 
> He pulled away a bit, his eyes looking up and to the right as he searched his memory. “No, you didn’t break any promises to me.”
> 
> “Well,” Tony conceded, “I didn’t make it in FRONT of you.”

They talked a few minutes more about more intimate topics (“Did you like that half-crouching position?” “Dear god it was amazing, I thought I was going to die, but it looked hard on your knees.” “No more than the super-hero landing, I promise you.”) and the post-coital analysis that Peter loved so much (“When you put your hand on my neck and pushed me into the bed I thought I was going to come on the spot.”) But those were secrets that had to be shared with foreheads together, which put them back in each other’s arms, which brought Peter’s thigh up against Tony’s erection, which Peter remembered had NOT been taken care of.

Peter insisted on riding him, and Tony waited until the boy was fully seated before asking questions.

“Did you take a lot of your study-buddies this way?”

“I TOLD you this is the most LOGICAL position.”

“Should I close my eyes and think about someone I really like?”

“Give me a break Tony, we were ALL there dreaming about someone else we had a crush on – that was understood.”

”Do you know that for a fact, Babyboy? How do you know those boys didn’t have a massive crush on you?

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot who wants details.”

Peter TRIED to gain the upperhand – he was riding the man’s turgid cock for godsake, you would THINK that would give him SOME advantage, but Tony argued otherwise (“That’s the trouble with dating an older man, little boy, that doesn’t matter NEARLY as much as you think it does. Details or I stop,” - and Peter didn’t want him to stop.)

Recounting how many boys he had ridden in dorm rooms, study cubicles and once in a deserted library was NOT easy while being bounced around like a ragdoll, but Peter did his best.  
It was late in the night, or maybe early in the morning, before they were finished, Peter refused to let go of his lover until he received the appropriate amount of analysis and compliments.

“Your ass was made for my cock…but unfortunately for you, it’s time for my Solo Shower,” Tony said, kissing Peter on the head before he sat up.

“Sorry kid,” he said to Peter’s exaggerated groan. “Reap the whirlwind.”

“What does that even _mean_?” Peter groused.

“Don’t they teach you good Bible in Queens?” Tony said casually as he rose from the bed, then looked down in surprise at his hand, now caught in Peter’s unmoving grip. It prevented him from standing up straight, so he paused, mid-rise, and looked at his lover cautiously.

“I know what the Bible means, I want to know what you mean,” Peter said, quietly, but seriously. “Given _what you were doing to me_ WHEN quoted the Bible AT me I think I deserve to know.”

His grip was too powerful to break, but his confidence wavered just a bit – afraid the older man wouldn’t understand the question or at least not respect his right to ask it. But Tony did not disappoint. Bending down to look Peter in the face he drew very close and spoke quietly.

“I offered to be your fuck-buddy.

“I asked you what it was your friends called it. I believe you said something like 'NSA' and 'Friends with…..' what was it? Benefits?'”

“_And you agreed_. And I thought we were good, but then suddenly I get this _missive,_ this……manifesto. Via text message **_on my phone_**. And now I’m being lectured on “LivingInTheMoment,” one word if you recall, and “Life-Is-Too-Short?”

"And I told you, kid. I told you this meant that **_you get the whole package._**

“And I warned you that you might not like it. I told you that it wouldn’t be pretty. But it’s what you wanted, and now you’ve got it_._ '_As you sow, so shall you reap_.'

"I am Tony Stark. I am possessive. I am territorial.

“And I’m pretty sure you’re going to get sick of it someday,” he said quietly, straightening his back and moving Peter’s hand, gently but firmly, away from his own, and Peter complied.

  
They looked at each other for a moment, and Peter nodded. But then he put his fingers through Tony’s own and motioned back toward the bed.

“That’s fair,” Peter said as Tony voluntarily sat down beside him. “But it goes both ways. You’ve got my 'whole package' too. And this is how it works – there are things I need to know.”

Tony nodded and Peter moved closer, rubbing his hand on Tony’s bicep, stroking it through the shirt as he chose his words carefully.

“Now you know what’s in my 'Hate Territory,' I need to know what’s in yours.”

“I’m a trisexual, kid,” he joked. “I’ll try anything once….”

“…except showering with company. That’s your Hate Territory. You do have it – and now I need to know some things.

“I need to know about the other boys. You never complained before, in fact if I remember correctly you encouraged me TO experiment with them AND gave me tips, remember? But then I 'Reaped The Whirlwind' and suddenly you need to know the names of boys that were in my ass and my mouth before you. Now….”

He softened his tone and stroked Tony’s face with one finger. He had thought long and hard about this; thought about the things he and his lover had done and thought about how _often_ they talked about it, moments or days afterward. Words seemed to be an aphrodisiac to Tony - first a decided part of foreplay and now often a part of the aftercare, and Peter was learning that _talking_ about sex was a very pleasant sex act in itself. So he lay his open hand on Tony’s face and whispered:

“If it _turns you on_, I’ll go find boys to fuck and I’ll tell you all the details. If it makes you hard I’ll write a 5,000 word description on the subject. But due to my “Damn Millennial Ethics” I can’t record every one of them and I need to know where you stand on this.”

“Yes,” Tony said, and he seemed unhappy, almost defeated, when he said it. “I do want details. I’ll need details. Yes, I’ll need descriptions.”

“Because it turns you on? Because right now – you don’t look like it’s turning you on.”

“…you’re right,” he said, shaking his head, looking bewildered. “Yeah, it’s different now…”

“Listen Tony. I don’t _need_ to be with those boys, not anymore. I’ve got all I needed out of them. And frankly being fucked by your epic cock means they’re all going to pale in comparison so….” But his attempt at humor didn’t seem to amuse Tony at all.

Still, he pressed forward. “I need to know – now that we’re together – is other boys Hate Territory or not?”

“Kid, that’s stupid, I’m not going to forbid you from…”

“That’s not what I’m asking, Tony. I need to know if this is Hate Territory.”

Tony looked away. He shook his head, stopped, and then nodded. “That’s fair. I don’t know kid, I’ll have to think about it.”

“I accept that. Now the shirt,” he said, touching Tony’s chest and stroking him with both hands. “You shower alone, I get that. I can deal with that. But taking off your shirt…it feels so good when you take it off and hold me, and I don’t care if the lights are on or off, and you know I don’t care about….them” he added, referring both to the scars and each story they told. “…..but I care about you. Is this Hate Territory?”

A momentary look of aggravation crossed Tony’s face and he opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. He looked, for a moment, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall of his bedroom, windows that let in a lot of light at night no matter how many lamps were turned off. He started to speak again, but changed his mind.

“If you want me to hold you, I’ll take it off in a heartbeat,” he said quietly, looking into Peter’s eyes. “But after that, it goes back on. Yeah, I guess that’s Hate Territory.”

Peter was disappointed at the answer and touched at the same time.

He kissed the man in response, then he cupped Tony’s face and whispered, “One more thing.”

This one was tricky.

“About that sexual favor you wanted to trade for the soundfile … I was wondering….” He started to speak more than once, pulling closer each time, until finally, Tony pulled them forehead to forehead, holding him there. He wrapped his arms around Peter and, rubbing his back, encouraged him to speak, smiling.

“Come on, baby, I mean it. _Anything._ You can't shock me. Anything your perverted little heart desires.”

“It’s …. this,” Peter said, and he pantomimed wiping tears from his cheek, indicating what “this” meant. “It’s embarrassing, crying in the middle of sex but… oh Tony, if I knew it didn’t matter…if I didn’t have to hide them and didn’t have to explain…God Tony it would just feel so good if I could just let go and let them happen. Because it feels so amazing…”

He took a deep breath and sat up a little.

“I can’t even describe it – it’s so _complete_ – letting you be in control - knowing I can just let go of everything – knowing you’re here and you’re with me and it’s all real.”

“But I know you don’t like it when I cry and, if it’s too much, if it’s really Hate Territory then, well, I’ll do what I can.

“But mostly its going to mean you can’t fuck me in that position and that’s going to suck.”

“God kid, that’s…..no if that’s …” Tony pulled him close, hugging him, all while hiding his face. His eyes were wide in horror, both at what he was being asked to do AND at the suggestion that they never fuck in that position again!

“If that’s what you want, I told you. I’d do anything for you. I mean I was hoping it would involve fishnet stockings and leather but… and if that’s what you want in bed…well I guess that’s ‘anything.’ But…”

He gave up speaking in frustration. He let go of Peter, but then put both hands on his face and brought their foreheads together again and tried to make himself understood.

He gave up before he even began.

“No.”

He turned away.

“I promised you ‘anything’ and I’m as good as my word. If that’s the ‘anything’ you want I’ll do it. It’s just that…”

He tried to look calm, and partially succeeded. He reached out and stroked the same cheek Peter and indicated and whispered “But you’re making me break a solemn promise to you. _ And that’s a lot,_ kid.”

Peter’s brow knitted in confusion. “Break a ….. what?”

He pulled away a bit, his eyes looking up and to the right as he searched his memory. “No, you didn’t break any promises to me.”

“Well,” Tony conceded, “I didn’t make it in FRONT of you.”

He took his hands off Peter and turned away slightly, trying to explain.

“After I told you, after I explained that we would be together, that you and I would be serious, that we’d be a couple, that we’d be honest with each other…..”

“To_ny,_” Peter sighed in exasperation. “You texted back exactly _two_ words. And those words were ‘Yes’ and ‘OK.’”

** “Well I did a lot of thinking in between those two words!” ** Tony snapped.

“I thought a very long time before the first one,” he tried to explain (but he didn’t even attempt to explain how he had felt at that moment, standing alone in an empty, echoing tower, reading those ranting, pleading messages, his whole body vibrating, his fingers shaking so badly he could barely reply.

(He didn’t tell the story of the longer texts that he had to delete, the ones about scars, both physical and emotional, about failure and the acceptance of failure, and about hope and all the pain and agony that hope could inflict.

(Nor did he tell Peter how he had simply typed the word ‘yes’ - typed it like a man in a dream, nor how that dream had turned into a nightmare and he found himself, barely aware of how he got there, standing naked in front of a full length mirror, his thumb hovered over the “send” button, muttering to himself “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t possible.”

(And if he wasn’t telling THAT story, why bother talking about how COLD he had gotten, how detached, and how he had fled into a scalding hot shower just to feel back into his body again, before wrapping up in a towel, finding the phone and hitting “send.”)

“And I was only able to hit that button because I made a promise. In between that first message and the second I vowed I would never do this to you kid,” he said emphatically, suddenly grabbing Peter by his face and pressing his thumbs to the dry cheeks. “I made myself a solemn promise I would never make you cry. And you’re making me go back on my word. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Tony,” Peter said gently. He snuck his hands in between Tony’s arms until he, too, was holding Tony by the face, thumbs on his cheeks. He looked deeply into the older man’s eyes tenderly, and whispered gently.

“That’s the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If A03 won't let you leave another kudo, just type <3 to let me know you got this far.
> 
> MY MUSES SAID THIS WAS THE LAST CHAPTER but we've already established that my muses lie. 
> 
> There are 2 codas after this.


	6. Tears and Interpretations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is dedicated to Von Gelmini, who insisted I include the Shower-Compromise, even if that just made it all longer.
> 
> Tony is singing his own version of "Hey There Lonely Girl" and "Sad Eyes." Google and enjoy.

“Tony, crying releases endorphins,” Peter explained as gently as he could to the angry man turning away from him. “…leucine-enkephalin to be exact, that’s like a detox because it reduces stress right away, I mean come on, you might promise you’ll never make me sneeze…” 

Tony listened in resignation as Peter lectured him on cortisol and the negative effects of cortisol buildup and the biochemical release valve of tears while he sat on the bed. 

But when Peter got to the description of the manganese content of emotional tears vs irritant tears he took him by one hand and led him to his luxurious bathroom.

For the two of them, the bathroom was a normal place for these types of technical conversations.

As Tony showered alone (a practice Peter had come to accept) he kept the shower door partially open (an acquiescence Peter deeply appreciated) and Peter at on a wooden stool right beside the door (a practice they had settled on that was MUCH more companionable than any other) and talked. Before it was about homework or new ideas for the suit, but tonight he felt like discussing the therapeutic benefits of tears to balance out emotion.

“So I’m sitting on top of this building, and it’s the highest I’ve ever climbed before, and I’m just tearing up and telling myself it’s the wind in my eyes but every time I look down at the city it starts again. So I went home and researched it and I read ‘this is your brain holding onto as much beauty as it can possibly hold, and it literally can’t hold onto all of it.’ And that was just amazing.”

He went on to describe the microscopic evidence proving the difference between tears produced from pain vs tears from emotion when Tony turned off the spray.

“So what I’m hearing you say is I should always have a microscope on hand before I fuck you?” Is that what I’m hearing?”

“**No,** I’m just saying you should ask me if I’m ok, and I say yes, you accept it. And if I tell you ‘it was amazing’ you accept them as tears of amazement.”

“If you say so kid.” came Tony’s muffled reply, which means he was toweling off his head and would soon appear in his bathrobe. “But I don’t…… think…….. I’m going to be “amazing” you forever…….” 

Peter waited until Tony came out before he replied.

“Then you won’t have to deal with it forever…”

Tony said nothing, but gave Peter a hard smack on his naked ass as they traded places. 

As Peter showered Tony stayed close by, perched on the stool, singing to himself, as he had the first time they had figured out how to share the bathroom without sharing the shower. It was lovely, showering off by himself but knowing that Tony was nearby, and wanted him to know he was nearby. (And Tony’s singing voice made his knees week all over again.)

Of course, tonight he was singing songs about tears.  
_"Ever since he broke your heart/you've seemed so lost/each time you passed my way/Oh how I long to take your hand/and say 'Don't Cry.'/I'll kiss your tears away/Unless they are tears of leucine-enkephalin...."_

__

__

_ __ _

“Those would be tears of change, not even tears of grief and – different from tears of joy on a microscopic level….”

_"Sad eyes/Turn the other way/I don't want to see you cry/Sad eyes/You'd knew there'd come a day/When we would have to analyze the manganese content of emotional tears…_

_ __ _

__

“Sing all you want Mr. Stark, but you can’t argue with the science” Peter called as he turned off the water. He opened the shower door and toweled off in full view.

“And this is the sexual favor I’m asking for in trade – unless it’s too squicky or cringeworthy.”

“WHAT the fuck is ‘cringe’ oh nevermind.”

“If it’s too gross. It it’s Hate Territory,” said Peter quietly, stepping out of the shower.

“Oh junior, you break an old man’s heart,” Tony said, catching Peter in his arms.

“Never let it be said my Twink asked me for a sexual favor I couldn’t deliver.”

\---------------  
**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a one more coda after this.


	7. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end.

**DID YOU SAY **

_A play in one act_

**Peter**: (_as they snuggle_) Wait. (_His eyes pop open_.)

**Tony**: (_starting a little_) What?

**Peter**: Did you call yourself………………._daddy_?

**Tony**: (_Closing his eyes and trying to sound dignified)_ No, sorry kid. You’re hallucinating.

**Peter**: Wait, I’m ….. did I? I thought you…

**Tony**: (with eyes still closed) Can’t prove it. Never happened.

**Peter**: (long pause) You have a recording of it. It’s filed as ‘The Twink Protocol.’

**Tony**: Can’t prove it.

**Peter**: (_raising his voice_) Friday?

**Tony**: (_putting his hand over Peter’s mouth_)

**Peter**: (_looks up at Tony’s now-open eyes, smiling under Tony’s hand._) 

**Tony**: (_after a moment_) Do you like it?

**Peter**: (_considering, but still grinning_) I don’t….I don’t know. I mean I’ve…..I never thought about it. Tony I’ve…..I’ve literally never called anyone “Daddy” before _in my life _so I don’t even know what it's supposed to….. 

**Tony**: (_a little sadly, ready to accept bad news_) So this is Hate Territory?

**Peter**: (_looking away, honestly thinking about it, and still smiling_) Uh….No?

**Tony**: (_looking relieved at first, but then cautious. Kid doesn't seem too confident._)

**Peter**: (_whispering shyly) _I really like it when you call me ‘baby.’ I mean, **a lot**. I mean like I think about it during the day and I smile. And then people ask me why I'm smiling and I can't tell them. I like it like _**that.**_

**Tony**: (_looking extremely relieved_) Yeah?

**Peter**: Yeah.

**Tony**: (_stroking Peter’s face) _Good.

**Peter**: (_reacting to Tony's hand_) And I _really_ like that. And when you said I was a “good boy?” (_Blushes and drops his eyes_) I mean I can’t say it made me hard because I had literally come just then but…..but it made my cock twitch.

**Tony**: (_sighs in relief, and chuckles, and smiles) _

**Peter**: So …. yeah. I like all that. Do you …. want _me_ to call you ‘Daddy?”

**Tony**: (_His eyes close even as his eyebrows go up, both surprised and overwhelmed. Also his cock just twitched_._) _Only if you want to.

**Peter**: (_whispering, barely audible, but boldly watching Tony’s face)_ Would it make you hard if I called you ‘Daddy?’

**Tony**: (_exhaling as if he has just been punched, eyes flying open. He wants it, but was still taken aback by his immediate physical reaction) _Yeah, yeah it would.

**Peter**: _ (strokes Tony’s face.) _

**Tony**: (_closes his eyes to the touch)_

**Peter**_: (still whispering_) __Open your eyes, Tony.

**Tony** _: (complies_) __

**Peter**: (_still whispering, putting his hand on Tony’s face.) _Ok. I can do that._ (Suddenly, in a regular voice) _But only if I can have Friday record your verbal reaction.

**Tony**: _(eyes widen in surprise)_

**Peter:** I’m filing it under “I Just Found Out Tony’s Kink Protocol” _(Grins from ear to ear and goes in for a kiss.)_

**Tony**: _(eyes still open during kiss)_

**Peter:** _(Chuckles evilly at his expression) _Reap the whirlwind, old man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've come this far - why not leave a comment?

**Author's Note:**

> You've made it this far, so leave a comment!
> 
> It's super easy - just a <3 or a : ) or, if you want to get Seussian about it, a "Yop!"
> 
> Or tell me why you liked it. : ) Comments breed more stories, you know.
> 
> (One more chapter to come.)


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